


Calaveras

by hangstzo



Series: McCree and Friends [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Christmas is a sad time for our fave cowman, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Jesse has a slight issue with alcohol, Reflections Comic, Sombra is amazing ok, this fic is like 8 months too late but eh, tired dad gabe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 20:46:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11791149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hangstzo/pseuds/hangstzo
Summary: Christmas is a time for family. Jesse McCree doesn't have much of that left these days.





	Calaveras

Christmas was a time for family. When he was a child, Jesse’s entire family would cram themselves into his _abuela’s_ tiny house in Dorado for the week leading up to Christmas Day. He would spend his days running around with his cousins, causing havoc and getting told off by the aunties. _Tía_ Martha would always lament to his mama about all the trouble he would cause but his mama would just laugh and ruffle his hair, saying, “Don’t listen to the evil _bruja_ , _mi vaquerito_ ,” causing the cousins to announce a witch hunt and chase around poor _Tía_ Martha.

On _Noche_ _Buena_ , they would all gather around his _abuela’s_ dinner table, some of the cousins having to share chairs to let them all fit. Jesse used to sit on his mama’s chair and she would give him extra food, much to his delight. His _abuela_ and aunts always made way too much for them all to eat and often sent them home with bags full of extra _turrón_ or _lechón_. Jesse and his mama would leave after Christmas before the rest of the family, sometimes in the middle of the night, in order to get all the way home, to a tiny apartment that was dark and damp, completely devoid of the Christmas spirit they had experienced with their family. But it was home and they were happy, usually staying up for the rest of the night chatting excitedly about the family or playing with Jesse’s new toys.

As he got older, Jesse learned that Christmas was hard on his mama. She would work harder, coming home later and exhausted, barely having time to make dinner for the two of them. He didn’t like it when she wasn’t home. Deadlock practically ran the apartment complex and they sometimes decided to just come into the flats unannounced to loot them. They usually left them alone but for his tenth Christmas, Jesse was given an old six shooter revolver. His mama waited until they had gotten back to their apartment to give it to him. She sat on his bed as he opened the small red box, fidgeting with his quilt. Upon seeing the gun, Jesse’s eyes widened and he stared up at her, slightly confused. “I dunno how to shoot it mama.”

“I’ll teach you, _niño_ , but I don’t want you using it,” she told him, gently placing the unloaded revolver between his hands. “This was my gun, she’s called Peacekeeper. I know those Deadlock _bastardos_ scare you and now you can scare them.” With that, she reached over for the old cowboy hat Jesse had had for as long as he could remember and put it down on his head. It was still too big, falling down slightly over one eye. She laughed, pressing a kiss to his nose and straightened the hat. “ _Mi vaquerito_.”

Jesse liked to visit his _abuela’s_ grave at Christmas time. Now a wanted criminal with a large bounty on his head, he couldn’t exactly track down what remained of his family and join in. After the Omnic Crisis had ended, many of them, including him and his mama, had moved up to the United States and had lost contact as the American government began clamping down on illegal immigrants from Mexico who had been displaced by the conflict, seeking better opportunities after _la Medianoche_. He missed those peaceful Christmas days of a time gone past. After the fall of Overwatch, Jesse had fled back to Mexico. Visiting his _abuela_ on holidays, particularly Christmas and _Dias de los Muertos_ had become something of a habit by now.

This year, he wandered through the cemetery carrying a bunch of poinsettias he had managed to charm a florist into giving him. On his way to the little plot where the grave was, Jesse spotted a name on another grave in his peripheral vision that brought him to a standstill. His heart started beating a little faster as he approached it, trying to convince himself that he was wrong, that he misread it. It had been a long week after all and he was exhausted. But no, he hadn’t misread the name on the grave. Time seemed to stop as he saw it and he felt his legs go weak. 

_‘Lani Adelita McCree. Hoy baila con los ángeles’._

His mama was dead and from the looks of the grave, she had been gone for a while. There were no dates on the stone but his _abuela’s_ was almost thirty years old and his mama’s looked to be almost as worn. In his heart, Jesse knew how old it was. It had been twenty years since he had joined Blackwatch and sold out what remained of Deadlock. He should have known they would want revenge. He should have asked Reyes to help her.

“ _Lo siento_ , mama,” Jesse mumbled, almost collapsing to his knees as he lay the poinsettias before the grave. He pulled up a few of the weeds surrounding the stone almost absently, wondering how the hell he had never noticed this before. His mama had been here for maybe twenty years and he had never noticed. He had never even known she was dead. Pushing those thoughts away, Jesse knelt down, head bowed in a silent prayer. His mama had always been more religious than he was and that was one of the reasons he had joined Blackwatch. If a man named Gabriel gave you a second chance, his mama would surely take that as some sort of sign from God. Jesse was not so sure about the whole God thing but he was never going to go against anything his mama believed in. 

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, kneeling in front of a worn grave in the freezing December weather. Snow was beginning to fall, gathering in the sides of his hat. After what felt like hours, Jesse got to his feet, his eyes still trained on the grave. “I’ll come back,” he promised, clearing his throat in an attempt to stop his voice from shaking. “I’ll bring ya some of those lilies. Ya always liked ‘em, mama.”

 ---

_2000 miles away, a girl stands in front of an empty grave. She places a single perfect lotus flower in front of it and presses a hand against the stone. With a catch in her throat, she walks down the endless rows of white graves in Arlington, stopping in front of two more. One is already adorned in flowers and little memorials, a stark contrast to the other which is plain and untouched. The two men remained opposites even in death. The bright peony she offers the grave seems too bright against the snow. She turns to the undecorated grave, tears in her eyes, and puts a small packet of sweets in front of the headstone before sitting down between the two graves that she had fought so hard to have placed together. “Merry Christmas,” she whispers, to the graves of men the world thought they had known, while the figure of a man dressed all in black watches from behind, turning into the shadows as the girl stands and begins making her way out of the cemetery. The shadow waits a few moments before returning to the form of a man and darting to the graves the girl just left, taking the little offering of a bag of sweets._

 ---

Jesse wasn't sure how or when he got there, but he ended up in a bar in Castillo. He sat on one of the stools, swirling a glass of whiskey half heartedly. There were a number of other people around him, including several who, if their brightly coloured tattoos were anything to go by, were members of the Los Muertos gang. He wasn’t a fan of those idiots but he was off duty and couldn't take on a bar full of them right now, especially when they were still angered by that vigilante killing four of their members. He had more important things on his mind. Nevertheless, he kept Peacekeeper’s holster in clear view as he continued to stare into his glass.

Soon after starting his second, maybe fourth, glass of whiskey, Jesse heard a disturbance from the back of the bar. Looking over, he saw a girl dressed almost head to toe in purple surrounded by three Los Muertos members. They were jeering at her, spitting Spanish insults while the girl retaliated with curses of her own. Girls getting treated badly had never quite sat right with Jesse, even back in Deadlock he would do his best to defend the women. It wasn’t until one of the men suddenly pinned the girl against the wall that he snapped into action. 

“Whoa there,” he said as he got to his feet, shaking his head slightly as the buzz from his three glasses of liquor, give or take a few, intensified for a second. “Leave the lady alone.”

The gang members turned to look at him, along with half the bar, before they started to laugh. “Ay, _vaquero_ ,” one of them began, a smirk spreading across his tattooed face, “go back to Texas and let us do our job.”

“Yeah, and find your horse while you’re at it!” They turned their backs to him, snorting in laughter, and returned to harassing the girl, who was looking at Jesse, seeming interested. She went back to snarling at the gang members as soon as they had her pinned against the wall again. 

Jesse sighed, picking his hat up off the table and walking up to the gang. “ _Opción dos_ it is then.” With that, he grabbed the Los Muertos member who had pinned the girl around the waist, shoving him to the floor. His friends hesitated a moment, obviously confused by whatever the hell just happened and Jesse took advantage of it, pushing the nearest one away and landing a fist on the jaw of the other. “Now that I’ve got yer attention,” he drawled, placing a hand on his holster in an exaggerated fashion, “I’ll say it again. Leave the lady _alone_.”

The men stared at him, their eyes drifting to the holster, before getting to their feet and half stalking, half running out of the establishment. One of them, the one he had shoved to the ground, bumped shoulders with the girl as he passed. “Los Muertos don’t like traitors, Sombra,” he hissed but another glare from Jesse sent him out of the bar. The warm atmosphere in the room settled once more as the chatter resumed. 

The girl, Sombra, rubbed at her neck as she stared at him, head slightly tilted. “Did you mean to do that?”

Jesse stared back and sighed, lifting his hand off his holster. “Now hold on,” he replied, frowning. “I jus’ helped ya away from those _gilipollas_ and this is how yer gonna thank me?” Looking back at his glass, he shrugged. “At least buy me a drink.”

“Ugh, _gringo_ you've already had six glasses of whiskey.” Sombra rolled her eyes and began fiddling with her nails. “Cheap tastes, McCree. But I guess I'm supposed to show thanks for your ‘act of heroism’ so I'll get you a bottle of the good stuff.” She leaned over the bar, talking to the bartender in Spanish so fast that his tipsy head couldn't be bothered listening to, already preoccupied with trying to work out how she knew his name.

It wasn't long before Jesse found himself back in his stool, pouring shots of whiskey from an expensive looking bottle with Sombra watching him from the other end of the bar. She was on the phone with someone and it sounded like they were arguing. He was too tired and too drunk to really have any idea of what was going on. He did his best to keep an eye on the woman, still worried about the Los Muertos members coming back but she seemed oblivious. “If we’re going to St Petersburg, you have to make _arándano_ some kind of coat,” she was saying while she tapped at some sort of floating purple screen. “Well, she must be cold Gabi! She doesn't wear much-Yeah yeah, _estético_ and all that _pendejadas_ but don’t you think she gets cold?”

Jesse frowned at her, pointing. “How d’ya know m’ name?” His voice was audibly slurred, unusual for him after only six, nine, glasses of whiskey. 

“Listen Gabi, I gotta go, some dumbass cowboy is talking to me.” Sombra rolled her eyes, examining her nails again and sighed. “Yes a cowboy, a _vaquero_. Got spurs and all, one on the gun too. _Ahorita regreso_ Gabe, I'm gonna deal with this.”

“‘M not a dumbass,” Jesse protested, hiccuping slightly. Sombra sighed again, it seemed as if she was constantly exasperated by the apparent stupidity of everyone around her, and waved the bartender over, seemingly ordering another bottle. He shook his head at her. “I don’ need no more whiskey, I’ve had too much.”

Sombra laughed, crossing her arms as she stared down at him. “I’m getting you some water, _llanero solitario_ , you’ll thank me later.” Jesse replied with an incoherent mumble as the bartender slid him a glass of water. He didn't get to thank the mysterious Sombra, seriously who literally called themselves ‘Shadow’, because three minutes later, he passed out with his head resting uncomfortably on his metal arm. Sombra just laughed at him and patted his arm as she left. “ _Pobrecito_ ,” she said, taking out her phone again. Her call was answered within seconds and she smiled, making her way out of the bar. “Aw, Gabe. You never told me your _mijo_ was a cowboy!”

The gravelly voice answered in a tone of annoyance. “Shut up and get back to base Sombra.”

**Author's Note:**

> TRANSLATIONS (lotta Spanish here bear with me. If any of these aren't right please let me know!)  
> abuela- grandmother  
> bruja- witch  
> vaquerito- little cowboy  
> Noche Buena- Christmas Eve  
> bastardos- bastards (self explanatory i guess)  
> La Medianoche- The Midnight (what the period during the Omnic Crisis when Mexico had no power was called)  
> Hoy baila con los ángeles- Today she dances with the angels  
> Lo siento- I'm sorry  
> vaquero- cowboy  
> Opción dos- option two  
> gilipollas- douchebag (I think, correct me if I'm wrong)  
> gringo- American  
> estético- aesthetic  
> pendejadas- bullshit  
> Ahorita regreso- I'll be right back  
> llanero solitario- lone ranger  
> Pobrecito- poor thing
> 
> The title of this is just the name of the bar in the comic because I am Very Bad at picking titles for fics.  
> Jesse's backstory is so inconsistent here and I'm sorry, I wrote this whole thing in a fit of creativity from about midnight to 2 am. My headcanon for his mama, Lani, is that she had him quite young and worked her ass off to look after him and Jesse adored her but always felt kind of bad about how much she worked to support him. That is why he took off to Deadlock when he was maybe thirteen? And the gang wasn't very happy about one of their own ratting them out so someone had to pay. Lani McCree was a literal angel and probably would have gotten on fantastically with Gabe.  
> Also, teeeeeny cameo of a certain Fareeha because I love her with all my heart. Yes yes I know she's actually meeting someone in the Reflections comic but *waves hand* timelines. And Sombra!!! My sweet purple hacker child returns to bother everyone around her, especially poor Gabe.  
> I'm [on tumblr](http://picturefirelizards.tumblr.com/), where you can find me sobbing about how hard lucioball is and how much I love Fareeha Amari.


End file.
